Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  “Mooella, I swear to God if you move, you’re the first one I’m telling Dad to sell. Just. Stay. Still.” I growl.

  Mooella listens for the first time ever in her short cow life, allowing me to come up right next to her. That is until I try to hook the lead on her harness, and she jerks forward. Her momentum pulls me with her, until my entire body comes crashing down face first into the mud, sending a cascade of thick, brown muck everywhere. I choke on the deep, earthy taste in my mouth, as I try and spit it out. Using my sleeve, I try to wipe it away, but it only makes it worse.

  “That’s it, Mooella. You’re on my list.”

  A deep laugh erupts from in front of me. Either Mooella learned a new trick in the last thirty seconds, or I’m not alone. “Mr. Troy?” I call out. A few heavy footsteps plop into the mud, until they stop in front of me, while I keep trying to clean myself up.

  “I don’t think she’s scared of your list, Iz.”

  All at once, my heart drops. Even with a face full of mud, I don’t need to see who’s laughing at my expense. It’s Alex. He’s come home.

  3

  This can’t be happening right now. It’s all a bad dream. If I pinch myself, I’ll wake up and be back in my bed, like this never happened. I pinch my mud-covered leg and only feel a jolt of pain. I can’t be that lucky, can I? No, that’s not how the wheels of fate spin for me. The angel looking out for me has either given up or finds pleasure in torturing me. Hearing him on the radio or seeing story after story is bad enough. But for him to be back home, I think I need to file a request for a new angel, because mine quite frankly sucks.

  “Need some help?” His voice is more profound and smoother than I remember, but now, it has a slightly more southern drawl to it.

  “Not from you.”

  Using what’s left of my clean shirt, I finally get most of the mud off of my face, clearing my vision. I don’t want to look up, but I do, instinctually. Alex looms over me with a cocky grin plastered all over his smug face. “Try this. You’re just making it worse.” He takes the bandana from around his head and tosses it to me. I know he’s right, but accepting this, just gives him the green light that things are okay between us, which they aren’t. I ponder for a second, before relenting and using his offering to clean off my face to the best of my ability. Alex leans back against a tree, snickering under his breath the entire time.

  “Find something funny about this?” I ask with an annoying tone. The fact that this is so amusing to him only pisses me off more. My misfortune isn’t his comedic relief.

  “Just thinking that this might make for a good song.”

  “I swear to all that is holy, Alex McCloud, if this ends up in one of your songs, I will kill you, and then bury you in the pasture.” I make sure that the threat is clear, throwing back his now soiled bandana against his pristine white t-shirt. “No one will find you.”

  “It’s not the first time you’ve said that, and look, I’m still breathing,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. Shoulders that are much broader than I remember. The last four years have been kind to him. Too kind, if you ask me. The boy that broke my heart has come back home a man. A good-looking man that is making my mind think all kinds of dirty, dirty things. His muscular build from playing football is leaner, but the more massive build on his upper body, is still apparent underneath, judging by how his t-shirt clings to each and every bulge and ripple of muscle. It’s not like I didn’t already know that with a new photo of him showing up on the front page of the local paper every week, but seeing it in person, is an entirely different story. He’s even more handsome in person, and that’s good for my resolve to keep the barriers up between us. Barriers, that with a single look, are already starting to crack at the seams.

  “You’re staring at me like I’m a ghost.”

  “A ghost would be a welcomed sight.” He grimaces, and I notice his jawline is more defined now with his cleft in his chin more prominent. The one feature he hated with a passion now has become one of his best traits. Well, that and his dimples, but now is not the time to take the trip down memory lane, and name off all the things I liked about Alex back in high school. Trust me, I had a list, which only reminds me I need to burn it now that he’s home. TMZ getting their hands on that would ruin my life for good. I can see the headlines now. “Alex McCloud’s desperate best friend. Her journey to being pathetic.” Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

  “Jesus, Iz. What’s gotten into you? It’s me, Alex. You’re acting like you don’t know me.” He reaches down to my elbow and tugs gently, trying to help me up.

  “I’m fine,” I scoff, pushing his grip off of me. “I don’t need your help. Never did.” My words coming off with a little more bite than I intend, but it gets the message across just fine. The last person on this planet that I need help from is Alex McCloud. Planting a hand down in the mud, I try to stand up. Only to slip and fall right back down into the mud pit with a spray of muddy water all over me, and now, all over Alex, too. My face flushes an even brighter shade of red. Can I not catch a break today? Where’s the do-over button that I can press and just go back to bed and erase this event from my memory forever? A girl can wish for a miracle, can’t she?

  “I see the stubborn side of you hasn’t changed,” he remarks with a smile, and his dimples are fully on display. Seriously, powers that be, do you have to do this to me now? Not cool. “Although, everything else about you seems to have.” He eyes me carefully, like a specimen under a microscope in science class. “Even with the mud,” he teases.

  “That’s rich,” I laugh, when I finally get to my feet without my ass meeting the ground again. “If anyone has changed around here, it’s you. Then again, for that to apply, that would mean you’ve actually been around, which you haven’t.” He grimaces again. Good, my message is loud and clear.

  “Ouch. Tell me how you really feel, Iz.” He pretends to grasp his chest in shock. Just like when we were kids, and I zinged him with some cold, hard truth. The Alex that really knows me would do good to remember that. Not this fake imitation of my best friend that is now standing before me, pretending as if nothing has happened between us. That he didn’t leave me without saying goodbye. That he didn’t leave me that night with all those confusing feelings swirling between us still unresolved, while he took the world by storm, making me watch him succeed from afar.

  “If I actually had anything to say to you, I would, but I don’t.” I pivot quickly. I have to get away from him. This is just too much. I can’t do this. Not now, or maybe not ever. The familiarity between us feels foreign. Mooella calls out, reminding me that I have more important things to worry about than Alex. Keep telling yourself that, Izzy. You know you want to stay here and find out just how much he’s changed.

  Alex doesn’t take the hint and follows right behind me. “Go home, McCloud.” He doesn’t pause, but instead, quickens his pace to catch up to me. “What part of going home, did you not understand? The go or the home.”

  He strides in front of me, spotting Mooella heading towards a thicket, trapping her from escaping again. I break out into a run to keep up with him. He stops short of where the stubborn heifer stands, throwing back his arm to stop me from charging forward. With short steps, he moves closer to her, until he’s within a few strides of her. He grabs her harness with quick ease and leads her back out of the thicket and to me, as she rubs her snout against his side.

  “How did you do that?” I ask, as my hands fly to my hips. She runs from me, but stands still for him. It’s bullshit, if you ask me. No more special treats. She’s a traitor now.

  “Mooella and I have always had an understanding.” Alex brushes his hand against her nose, rubbing it, and she leans into his touch and moos. “If you’re calm with her, she’ll be calm with you.”

  Yeah, right. That heifer does what she wants, when she wants. Nothing drives her more than making sure she reminds us just who runs this place. Her. Not my dad, and not me, but her Holstein ass. She’s just trying
to show off for him, flipping me a black and white cow middle finger to add insult to muddy injury. But if she wants to help Alex show off, so be it. I can play this to my advantage.

  “Okay, cow whisperer,” I tease him, knowing damn well wrangling cows isn’t what he had in mind, when he spotted me. That much I’m sure of. “Care to whisper her ass all the way back to the barn?” Let’s see what you do with that, McCloud. Doubt you’ll want to get your country music star ass dirty by doing real work.

  “Thought you’d never ask,” he confidently answers, pushing the ball back into my court. It’s surprising, but not unlike him. Alex was never one to back down from a challenge. I guess I’ll have to take it to the next level, if I’m going to get rid of him sooner rather than later. He needs to leave. I can’t have him here. Not when I still feel the way I do about him, after all these years.

  Alex starts for the barn and notices quickly that I’m not following behind him. “Not coming?”

  “You seem to have this under control, and I have a few more heifers to catch,” I answer indifferently. He stops dead in his tracks with Mooella in tow.

  “I thought we could talk. It’s been a couple of years, and I’d like to catch up.”

  Talk? Now, he wants to talk. After four years of chances, he thinks that by coming home, we are just going to fall back into our old routine, like before he left. When he chose his path that didn’t include me. Fat chance of that happening. We are two different people, and any form of talking is never going to change that. Letting him back in isn’t an option, because as soon as I do, he’ll take off back to his new life, and I’ll still be here. The best thing I can do is forget about our exchange today, and that he’s back in town. In the end, it will be better for me and my heart. It took me far too long to get over him the first time he left. If I allow him in again, the second time will be a killing blow, instead of a graze.

  “The time for talking was anytime in the last four years,” I answer flatly to his displeasure. “I called, and you didn’t.” He knows I’m not wrong either. I reached out, but he didn’t. If anyone is responsible for the implosion of our friendship, it solely sits in his court. Alex did this to us. He hurt us, and he just didn’t care.

  “Iz, I…” he starts, before I cut him off. “I didn’t mean…”

  “We’re done here,” I dryly note. “Take Mooella home, and go away. You being here isn’t good for anyone, especially me. Go back to your adoring fans, and your superstar girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my…” he tries to explain, but I throw up a hand to stop him. Deny all he wants, photos can’t lie, and the camera seems to love them.

  “Stop, Alex. Just stop.”

  Without another word, I split off from him, putting as much distance between us, as I can. I catch myself wanting to look back to see if he is doing the same, but I refuse to be that girl. I won’t be the girl I was back in high school, who thought the world revolved around Alex McCloud. Not now, and not ever. My heart can’t take another hit like that. It took long enough to repair it the last time he left. I’m not going to put myself through that again.

  4

  It took a few more hours to round up the rest of our four-legged runaways, but finally, with the help of our neighbors, The Troy’s, all are present and accounted for. True to my word, Mooella was the last one in the rotation, during the evening milking. She bellowed and mooed to let me know her displeasure, but it’s something that she is going to have to get used to, after her little stunt today. No more Miss Sweet Lizzy for her. After doing a last check of the barns, I head towards the house. Its white siding stands out against the beautiful hues of an early spring sunset. The yellows, pale pinks, and greens dance on the cusp of the horizon behind the house, painting the prettiest of pictures. It serves as a constant reminder of just how much I love rural life and our land.

  It might be cheesy to think about, but Gerald O’Hara from Gone with the Wind had it right. When everything falls away, dies, or is taken away from you, your land is always there. The place where your roots remain active and serve as a powerful tie to your family history. The exact feeling that I have every single day that I look out over our farm and work it. It’s fulfilling.

  With a final glance towards the dipping sun, I head up the steps onto the porch just as a chorus of laughter rings out from inside the house. Mr. Troy and his sons must have stayed for dinner. It’s only fitting with the help they gave us today. My mother is the epitome of southern hospitality. It’s your own damn fault if you leave our house without a full belly, and at least, three extra meals to take home with you. It’s just the way she is. I kick off my muddy boots by the back door and head inside, only to stop dead in my tracks.

  “What in the hell is he doing here?” I ask my mother, when I spy Alex, sitting at our kitchen table and not Mr. Troy or any of his sons.

  “Elizabeth Ann Moulton is that any way to treat a guest,” she growls a correction back. It takes every ounce of willpower inside of me not to sass my mama again. Alex is definitely not a guest, but the wrath of my mother is not worth it. “Apologize.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble under my breath. “Going to go get cleaned up.” Not adding in the fact that I hope to ignore him to make him leave, before I get back. Alex’s confused glance connects with mine and trails with me, as I pass him. I pause, when I reach the hallway, listening to my parents chatting with him, like the last four years didn’t happen. That he didn’t abandon us or this town. He clearly ignored my pointed threat from earlier, and he calls me the stubborn ass. That title is clearly his. Why else would he sidle up to my parent’s kitchen table, knowing damn well how I feel about his presence?

  Shaking off the unease from him and the entire day, I grab a change of clothes and stomp right into the bathroom. I even go so far as to slam the door a little harder than I usually do, hoping to the big man upstairs, that Alex takes the hint. The white porcelain of the basin runs brown, as all the mud washes away from my body. Typically, showers are my happy place, but right now, that isn’t the case. My brain refuses to shut off, trying to understand what compelled him to not only show up at one of my lowest points and revel in it, but to also show up here for dinner. I know my mom is a great cook. One of the best in the county, according to the extension homemaker’s booth at the annual country 4-H fair. Mama’s pies win every single year much to the dismay of the other ladies, vying for the title and a pretty blue ribbon, but a great slice of pie, isn’t a big enough draw in my mind to stick his nose back into my life. There is something else going on, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to find out what it is. Nothing good can come from Alex being back in my life, and the semi-stable harmony I’ve found here isn’t going to be upset by his appearance and disappearance soon enough. I just have to avoid him. He’ll hopefully get the hint, leave me alone, and then just book it out of town. Waiting him out, is the only thing I have to work with, even if part of me, doesn’t want that all.

  You’ve got to keep it together, Lizzy. He’ll leave, and then everything will be back to normal. Lord have mercy. Now, I’m even lying to myself.

  The searing hot spray stings my skin, but its warmth soon washes away all the traces of the events of today. The mud, and Alex’s effect on me. Only leaving the annoyance of his presence still lingering inside of me. Hot water can only do so much, and washing him out of my house, is apparently too much to ask. My stomach growls loudly. Traitor. Hiding in here isn’t going to be an option after all. As I’m dressing, a dark nose sniffs under the door.

  “Pete, go back to the kitchen,” I whisper, as I slip on an old t-shirt and one of the better pairs of my black leggings. He sniffs a little harder, pushing against the door, as he begins to scratch at it. If I stay in here any longer, Mom will be after him for clawing at her new hardwood doors, and then after me for not hurrying up. I place both hands on the frame, bracing it closed.

  “Quit it!” He pushes a few more times, before I hear the hefty pounds of his feet, trotting back down th
e hallway.

  I considered briefly, when getting my clothes, to put on something a little nicer, but I’m not trying to impress Alex. The other side of the coin is that he’s already seen me like this in our past. Mostly on nights where I couldn’t sleep and would sneak out to the porch in the middle of the night. With a sixth sense, Alex would show up and join me. Those were the moments between us that I missed. The intimacy of just sitting there together with the crickets singing a chorus around us, and the chilly night air tickling at our skin. Losing that piece of our friendship, is what took the most significant toll on his moving away. Alex, for a short period, was my anchor, when the storm clouds came rolling in. I am adrift now with no outlet.

  Wiping the fog away from the mirror, I peer into it.

  “You can do this, Elizabeth,” I whisper to my reflection. “You’re Fort Knox, and he’s an intruder. Defend the shit out of your walls, until he waves the white flag.” I suck in a deep breath, before leaving the bathroom with my eyes glued to the ground, repeating my mantra. The only problem is that I don’t see Alex, standing right outside the bathroom door, until I smack right into him. We collide with a hard thump, shoving us both back in a flurry of apologies.

  “Shit, Iz. Are you okay? I didn’t think you’d come busting out of there, like a bull in a China shop,” he mutters with his hand reaching out and caressing my cheek gently. His touch feels foreign and welcoming, adding another layer to this emotional rollercoaster that I’ve found myself on today. Every fiber of my being, wants to lean into his touch, absorbing the warmth from his skin into memory, but I keep it at bay. Just another reason, why having him around, will do more harm than good. He’s dangerous to my paper thin resolve. His hand falls away from my face and back to his side, where it belongs.